


Happy Birthday

by Faerie_Gutz



Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Crying, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I guess????, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Last fic was about cassie's dead father, So now it's time for marcassin's dead mama, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faerie_Gutz/pseuds/Faerie_Gutz
Summary: Today was the day.The most dreadful, painful day of them all.It was Prince Marcassin’s birthday.
Relationships: Lars | Marcassin/Reinas | Cassiopeia
Kudos: 13





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> !!WARNING!!  
> Please read all the tags (if you haven't already) to avoid potentially triggering content!  
> Its literally 12am im sorry if this is shit

Today was the day.

The most dreadful, painful day of them all.

It was Prince Marcassin’s birthday.

It was a bleak Autumnian winter morning. A cool draft breezed throughout the palace, and as it crept up on Marcassin, it kissed the patches of his skin that were bare, leaving behind goosebumps and a winter tingle of cold. He was shaking softly, and not the kind caused from the cold. The kind caused from sheer hatred, or maybe the kind caused from the terror that strikes throughout your entire body as you look into the eyes of a violent, aggressive beastie. The prince closed his eyes, crystal teardrops sticking to his lashes like a constellation. 

It was his fault.

It had always been his fault, and ever since the tender age of four he had realised this. His birthday was never celebrated as a child, why should it be when it marked the death of his mother?

It was his fault.

If he had never been born, she would still be here. Perhaps then Gascon would not have wanted to leave so badly. Marcassin thought about this often: what his family would been like if he remained nothing more than a twinkle in his father’s eye. 

It was his fault.

Did his brother blame him too? As a child, he had always given him a pat on the back and a hug to help him get through his birthday, but did he secretly not forgive him for taking their mother’s life? Speaking of, his brother was likely to visit him today. This was Marcassin’s first birthday since his brother had returned.

Or perhaps, his brother did not wish to see him.

Marcassin began to walk away from the window he had been gazing out. He was going to the kitchen, to make tea or coffee or something, but he found that his legs were shaking too much, and barley keeping his balance. So, he gave up, like he always seemed to do. He sat down in a nearby chair and found himself getting rather worked up. He rubbed at his temples and his joints seemed to ache. He exhaled as tears began to slide down his pale cheeks. His whole body began to tremble, as if his bones had turned to rattlesnakes. He tried to get on top of his breathing to calm himself down, but it was no use. His anxiety and emotions had once again got the best of him. “I’m sorry….” His shaky voice whispered to himself. 

“Marcassin.”

The prince bolted upright, he had been so busy drowning in his guilt and feeling sorry for himself that he had not noticed someone open the door and enter. He was expecting Gascon: but the voice that called his name was not his brother, nor was it male. He glanced over to see Queen Cassiopeia staring right back at him.

How embarrassing.

She smiled and walked over to where he was sitting.  
“Happy Birthday.”  
Marcassin only blinked at her. “But- How did you know it’s today?”  
“Your brother sent me.” The queen smiled proudly.  
Marcassin put a hand over his face and sighed softly. Of course. Of course, Gascon sent her. Damn him, his big brother always knew what would make him feel better.

Cassiopeia shifted the position she was standing in. “So, are you just going to sit there and sulk all day?”  
Marcassin nodded slowly, the tips of his dark blue hair kissing his back. “Didn’t my brother tell you that I killed my mother?”  
The queen’s expression changed, and Marcassin could not tell what this new expression was. But she leaned in towards him and gently placed her hand on top of his. She whispered to him, “Killed? Absolutely not. Marcassin- You did not choose to be born. And you did not choose for your mother to die. I do not have any children of my own, but I find mothers tend to put themselves at risk for their children. And I’m positive that your mother is happy that you are alive and well, even if it cost her own life.”

Marcassin had began to sob midway through what Cassiopeia had told him. “But- She- I-If I was not born, she would still be here and I’m certain my brother would be better off.” He clutched onto the queen’s hand and gripped her white shirt.  
Cassiopeia hushed the weeping prince. “You don’t know that. Maybe Swaine would be lonely without a little brother. Your brother does not blame you, he wanted me to make sure you knew that. He does not blame you. It isn’t your fault, darling.” Cassiopeia was unsure as to why she had called him that, but Marcassin did not seem to think too much of it. In fact, her words seemed to calm his breathing and settle him.

Cassiopeia began to slowly pull away, and Marcassin began to loosen his grip on her, the entire time he had been clinging to her in a similar way to how a child would cling to their favourite toy. “Will you be okay?” she said at last. Marcassin was looking down at his feet. “I think so. But- I mean I don’t want to sound- Sorry but- C-Can you just stay here?”

The queen smiled at him. “Of course."  
She took a seat in the chair next to the one Marcassin was sitting in, and she found herself staring. His blue hair reminded her of the finest of ebony and his eyes certainly were an exquisite colour, and they seemed somewhat milky and angellike after he had been crying, as if the tears had completely cleansed them of all impurities. She was unsure as to why, but she decided to say something, something that she would not usually say in a situation like this.

“I’m glad you were born, Marcassin, because you’re so very, very handsome.”


End file.
